Year’s Best Awards

by Joshua Maloni

Year’s Best Movie:
“Kill Bill: Volume One.” Quentin Tarantino is a mad genius. Only he could make bloody, over-the-top, kitschy swordplay thoroughly enjoyable.

Year’s Best Trilogy Conclusion:
“The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King.” Not since “Star Wars,” or at least “3 Ninjas,” has a trilogy been better.

Year’s Worst Movie:
“Lara Croft Tomb Raider: The Cradle of Life.” Poor Angelina. At least we have … that other movie she did this year that no one saw.

Year’s Best Worst Movie:
“From Justin to Kelly.” So bad it’s good. P.S. Someone give Guarini a comb already.

Year’s Best Proof that Hype Does Not Equal Sales:
Angelina Jolie in “Tomb Raider 2,” and Britney Spears’ album “In the Zone.” Good looks and good luck are not synonymous.

Year’s Best Proof that Negative Hype Can Kill Your Product:
(Tie) “Daredevil,” “The Hulk” and “The Matrix Revolutions.” Blind, dumb and reloaded with fluff.

Year’s Surest “When I grow up, I will hide in my locker for shame”:
Maddox Jolie-Bob-Thornton, or whatever the poor boy’s name is. His goth-meets-country, eccentric, blood-wearing parents, Jolie and “Bad Santa” Billy Bob, couldn’t pick worse movie roles if Count Chocula was their agent.

Year’s Best Mainstream Band:
Audioslave. On paper, the combo of Rage Against the Machines’ band and Soundgarden’s front man was a dynamic pairing. In reality, Chris Cornell, Tom Morello and co. more than lived up to billing.

Year’s Best Song:
“Seven Nation Army.” The White Stripes are the best band since the clock clicked over to 2000. Period.

Year’s Worst Mainstream Band:
“Velvet Revolver.” Awarded not because of the music, but rather for the disappointment associated with what could have been had Scott Weiland finally quit using and abusing. He has become this generation’s musically gifted token toker.

Year’s Worst Song:
Anything by John Mayer; they’re all garbage and notorious for lingering in your head. He’s “Open Mic Night’s” good-looking, quiet musician that you just want stuff into a guitar case and kick to the curb.

Year’s Best TV:
(Tie) “Punk’d.” Shutting Halle Berry out of her own premiere brought tears to my eyes: Sinister, villainous, squinty-eyed-dog-like tears of laughter.
“The O.C.” I’m just waiting for Peter Gallagher’s hair to fully consume the rest of his head.

Year’s Worst TV:
Poor NBC. All that time and money promoting “Miss Match” and “The Lyon’s Den” and both came out pretentious and predictable. Or so the three people who tuned in have told me. Also: Fox’s “The Next Joe Millionaire.” I liked it better when it was called “Dumb and Dumber.”

Year’s Biggest Sell-Out:
Madonna, many, many times over. She shilled for perfume, kissed Britney and wrote a children’s book. Old Madonna would kick the stuffing out of this new version.

Year’s Best Jealousy:
Christina Aguilera. No one likes being the other woman. Soon after the MTV girl-on-girl-on-girl lip lock with Britney and Madonna, C-Ag’s smooch failed to generate any buzz for the naked one, but boy did the other two girlies get the stinger from the scorned songster. As tongues drooled and tags wailed, Aguilera turned to the press to rip on the genuineness of the event.
Indeed.

Year’s Best Buffalo Bashing:
Jessica Simpson of MTV’s “Newlyweds,” clueless to what a “Buffalo Wing” is, and apathetic to its origins.

Year’s Best “Kiss” and Make-up:
Jessica Simpson hosting the Kiss 98.5 “Kissmas Bash” in Buffalo.

Year’s Worst Use of Grammar:
(Tie) First, it’s often, not of-ten. The 'T' is silent! Next, using “over” instead of “more than.” “Over” refers to spatial relationship. Finally, to say “on accident,” as in “I did it on accident,” is to make me cringe with head-banging-the-table rage.

Year’s Best New Word/Phrase:
“T-shirtable.” You’re welcome.

Year’s Best Guilty Pleasure:
Rachael Ray of The Food Network’s “30 Minute Meals” and “$40-a-Day.” Pipin’ hot and yummy. Great food ideas, too.

Year’s Worst Guilty Pleasure:
Singing along to the “Milkshake” song. You know who you are.

Year’s Most Overplayed Pair:
Bennifer, that is Ben Affleck and J-Lo, could not have been in the press more if they lived on a ranch with Peter Pan and the llamas.
Speaking of which …

Year’s Inevitable Forehead Slap:
To the LAPD, if what Michael Jackson alleges, that he was abused in their custody, is true. Such an offense could get the gloved one off the hook. LAPD, do us a favor, don’t arrest anyone famous ever again. Ever.

Year’s Best Proof that Hollywood Will Employ Anyone or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb:
“Dickie Roberts: Child Star.” I always thought chocolate donuts could solve war, but clearly it’s more screen time for Screech and Corey Haim. Their rising coincided with Saddam’s fall.
Has anyone seen Urkel? We need him to go infiltrate the Taliban.